


Flaws (Look At The Wonderful Mess That We Made)

by melancholymango



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Child Abandonment, Daddy Issues, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Kiss, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, Insecure Lance (Voltron), Keith (Voltron) is Bad at Feelings, M/M, Nightmares, Self-Worth Issues, Sharing a Bed, really bad this boy dont know an emotion if it punches him in the faCE, set mid-season 3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-18
Updated: 2017-08-18
Packaged: 2018-12-16 18:12:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11834259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melancholymango/pseuds/melancholymango
Summary: "I hate feeling like this.""Like what?"“Like a burden.” Keith answers bluntly, nails digging into the mattress. He stares down at it, unable to look at Lance as he explains himself further. He knows what he’ll see, knows Lance’s smile will crumple and give way to a deep frown. He feels Keith’s hurt as rawly as his own. “It’s all I’ve ever been. I cost my mother her life, I ruined my father’s, I wasted the time and resources of every orphanage or foster family that ever took a chance on me, I spat in the face of all the Garrison leaders who saw potential in me, I let Shiro down. I’m going to disappoint the entire fucking universe now. And... I-I’m draining you.”





	Flaws (Look At The Wonderful Mess That We Made)

**Author's Note:**

> Hiya, this is?? I don't actually know what this is. It was supposed to be a sad pining Keith fic, but then it turned into more of a vent piece about how terrible emotions are. My next fic will probably be intense pining. AnYway, if you hate feeling things or if you love seeing Keith in emotional turmoil, you've come to the right place. ((this fic is loosely inspired by the Flaws Klance Animatic by cellyfish on youtube, not really but also i just wanted an excuse to mention it because it's beautiful pls watch it))

 

Keith has never had something to hold onto before. He’s often felt adrift in a sea of things he didn’t fully understand, faces he couldn’t bring himself to recognize, emotions so foreign and shameful that he couldn’t possibly shove them down deep enough within himself. So he floated, head over heels, gasping and choking on the water filling his lungs. No one ever taught him how to swim, how to not walk out into the water the moment the sun glinted off the surface, taunting him with promises of something better.

Keith is the cat killed by curiosity, smothered with the sheer amount of longing in his chest for another life that doesn’t leave him feeling alienated the way his current one does. He’s never been so close before, never been able to hold his head above the surface long enough to catch his breath. He’s not floating aimlessly anymore, not alone, there’s land in sight on the horizon and the feeling of something solid beneath his fingertips.

There’s a hand reaching out to him, delicate but insistent, judgment-free even as they watch Keith drown in his own insecurities.

So he does what anyone with a value on their own life would do; he clings. He digs his nails in deep and throws himself at the promise of progress with all he has. He scrambles aboard the lifeboat hacking and trembling, knowing that the weight of the anchors around his ankles are far more likely to capsize the vessel than anything else, that all he’s going to do is bring the both of them down. It’s too heavy, he’s too far gone, he’s bound to end up rotting on the ocean floor no matter who he takes down with him.

He’s better off alone. He deserves to be alone. He _needs_ to be alone.

He tries to convince his savior of this, but his limbs are tired and uncooperative, he feels weary down to his core after struggling on his own for so very long. He collapses into open arms, panting as he shivers against the broad planes of a warm chest, the steady thud of a heartbeat feels almost bruising against his cheek. There are caring fingers carding through his matted hair, brushing it out of his eyes and tracing the curve of his jaw. There’s a soft voice murmuring comfort to him, praise and reassurance, things Keith knows damn well he doesn’t deserve to hear. He doesn’t deserve to be coddled like this, he needs to man up and deal with his problems, they’re nothing in comparison to what other people have to face on a daily basis. He likes it though, selfishly enough.

He can feel them sinking, the lap of the water closing in teasing the tips of his toes. He could do the right thing and jump overboard, save this selfless man that gave up everything to save _him_. Has he ever done the right thing, though? If he were someone that did the right things...then he wouldn’t have been drowning to begin with.

He ruins everything he touches and it’s no ones fault but his own.

\--

Keith bolts upright in bed, hands flying across the sheets so fast his nails end up catching. He pants until he’s heaving, entire body shaking with the force of the breaths he’s drawing into his lungs. His tired eyes are stinging, tears pricking at their corners and demanding to be shed. He whimpers pitifully, bringing a hand up to claw at his chest, where his feeble heart is positively pounding.

He’s not sure when it starts exactly, but his cheeks are coated with tear tracks the next time he becomes aware of his surroundings, salt water soaking the front of his shirt and the surface of his pillow. His panicked breaths evened out into wet heaves at some point as well, adapting in an effort to keep him alive as he failed to inhale around the snot filling his nostrils.

 _I’m fine_ , he tells himself. _It was just a dream_ , he adds. _It’s not real_ , he repeats pleadingly.

It’s hard to believe himself when he’s so acutely aware of how the dream correlates to real life, how much reality is held thinly veiled behind the excuse that his subconscious had come up with it. They’re all thoughts and feelings he’s familiar with, just ones that he tries to chase off whenever they ebb in around the edges of his mind. It doesn’t do him any good to think about them, they only serve as a distraction from the tasks at hand. The last thing Keith needs right now are distractions.

He stares down at his hands in his lap, gaze tracing the lines of his fingers and trying in vain to come back from his thoughts, back to the moment. It doesn’t work like it normally would, no matter how hard he pushes himself to just bottle it back up, it feels like the glass of the bottle has properly shattered this time around. His hands curl into fists and he groans, slamming one into the mattress and hissing at the recoil that jolts up to his elbow.

He got to his feet, not even bothering to pull on a shirt before swaying toward the door. He shoves it open with perhaps a little bit too much force, not even waiting for the automatic scanners to work. He stomps heavily down the hallway at first, uncaring if the sound of his feet padding against the floor wakes anyone. His steps get gradually less confident as time passes though, uncertain and slow the longer he considers what he’s doing.

He comes to a stop outside of a familiar door, hand hovering over it to knock. He knows Lance’s key code, could just invite himself inside, Lance has told him a million times or more that it’s fine. Keith just can’t bring himself to do it, even the itch under his skin from coming here and asking for permission was difficult to handle, if he just invited himself in and imposed on Lance entirely… the thought makes him sick with guilt.

Keith finally brings himself to knock, rapping his knuckles against the door lightly. There’s no answer. He bites down on the inside of his cheek until he tastes metallic, then attempts to swallow it down. He should leave, he should turn around and head back to his own empty, cold bed. That’s what he’s always done before, it’s the only option he’s ever had. He’s made it this far on his own, why does it feel so impossible now that he’s aware of the alternative? God, he’s so weak.

He ends up knocking again, after another ten minutes of standing there awkwardly in the dark of the hallway, silently begging himself to just leave already. Lance is trying to sleep, Lance has his own problems to worry about, Lance… doesn’t deserve to be the one he unloads all of this onto. He just doesn’t have anyone else.

If Shiro were here then it wouldn’t have gotten this far. Though he never confessed anything about how he was feeling to their former leader, Shiro had known him long enough to pick up on when he was at his worst and would give him extra advice or distance accordingly. Lance is different in the sense that he’s someone to _confide_ in, someone Keith actually has to come to and talk to. It’s difficult, much harder than things ever were with Shiro, but he’s starting to think the extra effort might be worth it.

Shiro sees him as a little brother, someone he _has_ to look out for and be careful with. An obligation. To Lance, he’s only ever been an equal, there are no obligations between them and _still_ Lance has been there for him countless times since becoming his right-hand man. It’s foreign, Keith’s never had anyone like that before. He still feels like he’s forcing Lance into it, still hates himself every time he opens up and watches the hurt flash across Lance’s face as he absorbs Keith’s pain, but he just can’t face it on his own anymore.

_Selfish._

God, he’s so selfish bringing Lance into this.

He knocks again, almost absentmindedly, the movement of his hand heavy and sluggish as he blinks away more tears.

“God, I’m _coming_ !” Lance all but screams, voice cracking in a way that might have been comical at any other time. Keith startles at the sound, jumping backward a step with wide eyes. He’s poised to run, legs tense and arms raised as if he’s waiting on a battle to break out rather than a confrontation with his friend. He waits patiently, his heart lodged somewhere in his throat, alarms blaring through his mind and trying to reason with him that _turning around is the safest option_. He’s vulnerable right now, exposed and raw, this is the sort of thing he’s spent his entire life trying to hide from people.

But he’s tired now, he feels as if he’s lived a thousand different lives and been unhappy with every one of them. He craves closeness. He misses it even though he’s never known it. More than anything, he misses Lance, despite it only being a few short hours since they were last together. It’s clear he didn’t take the moral of his dream to heart whatsoever, that even knowing all the risks and all the hurt he’s sure to cause, he still _wants_. He wants so feverishly and so stubbornly that he aches, like there’s a physical need to be comforted and consoled by Lance’s honey-smooth voice and delicate touch.

He feels guilty still as he hears Lance grumbling on the other side of the door, muttering expletives under his breath in Spanish, and then in English, and then in Altean for good measure. The angry grumbling trails off into the sound of heavy-footed stomping, this sound growing progressively louder as Lance approaches the door. Keith braces himself, branding the palms of his hands with little crescent-moon shaped indents from his nails. He feels like he’s putting himself on display, like the fool hovering above a tank of water and waiting to be dropped into it.

The door slides open, revealing an attractively sleep-mussed Lance. If the vulnerability hadn’t been enough to make Keith bolt for cover, the strange nauseous feeling that erupts through his torso upon seeing how good Lance looks should be. He’s wearing a pair of blue lion slippers, an entirely unbuttoned pajama shirt that looks absolutely impractical, and a pair of tight-fitted boxer briefs with what look to be tiny pizzas plastered all over them. It’s obnoxious. _Obnoxiously Lance_. Keith hates how much that sounds like a compliment rather than an insult, mostly because he’s not entirely sure when it changed.

Keith’s eyes flicker back up to Lance’s face, studying the frustrated pinch between his eyebrows, the tired droop of his eyes. He looks exhausted. He hasn’t even glanced up from the floor yet,  only moves to rub at his eyes and yawn. He starts speaking before the yawn has finished, his words distorted. “For fuck’s sake, I know we’re defenders of the universe or whatever, but could it not wait until-”

“Lance.” Keith croaks, eyes widening further at the sound of his own voice. It’s obvious that he’s been crying, the strain on his vocal chords shows through the single syllable he speaks. Lance’s gaze darts upward, bright blue eyes finding Keith’s and washing over with concern.

“Keith?” Lance calls softly, stepping cautiously closer. The urge to turn tail and take off is still strong, but Keith shoves it down in favor of stumbling forward. The movement is clumsy and uncalculated, but he doesn’t care as he collapses against Lance’s chest. Lanky arms wrap around his torso and hold him up, hands clasping together at the dip of Keith’s bare lower back.

The relief is instant. It’s like stepping into the warmth of your home after being caught out in a storm, like the first glimpse of a sunrise after a long, dark night of not sleeping, it’s all-encompassing. Keith feels endlessly thankful for that, he needs something that’ll fill all the cracks and gaps within his mind. He needs a distraction from the way his thoughts tear him down, at least long enough for him to stand again.

Lance doesn’t say a word, doesn’t even stiffen as Keith starts to sniffle into the collar of his shirt. He simply holds the trembling boy, the embrace grounding Keith just enough that he no longer feels like he’s aimlessly adrift. He’s… here. With Lance.

“I’m sorry.” Keith chokes out a long moment later, lifting his head to stare weakly up at Lance. The taller boy’s expression is unreadable at first glance, but once Lance catches him staring it shifts into something kind and open. He lets Keith in, doesn’t bother to hide the varying emotions as they flit across his sharp features. He looks tired, maybe even the slightest bit relieved that Keith had come to him, but mostly he just seems pained.

Keith grits his teeth, shaking his head. “I’m so sorry.”

“Hey, buddy, it’s okay.” Lance insists hurriedly, hugging Keith closer to his chest. Keith takes the offer as it is, shoves his face into Lance’s neck despite how sheepish he feels about the clammy, tear-soaked state of his cheeks. If Lance is bothered by it, he doesn’t say so. His hands trace over Keith’s back, touch light as a feather and intent clearly soothing. Keith relaxes slightly, heaving a deep sigh. “You’re the exception, you know I don’t mind losing sleep for this. I just wish I could do more for you, that’s all.”

Keith ponders the words, rolls them over in his mind to consider them from every angle. He doesn’t understand it really, how Lance allows himself to feel so much all the time. It must wear away on him, embracing not only his own emotions, but everyone else’s as well. Keith can’t even handle his own and Lance is out here willingly taking on everyone else’s, acting as a buffer.

Keith had learnt rather early on into being Lance’s teammate that the boy loved attention, strived to have it no matter the cost. At times, this meant something as small as having reactions to his jokes, or acting so outrageous that people had no choice but to look at him. Keith knows now that he craves more, though it took him longer to figure that part out. Lance didn’t just want to be the center of attention in the room, didn’t just want all eyes on him at all times. He wanted to know he was needed, that his presence was genuinely desired.

He needs reassurance, plain and simple, and though Keith’s perspective is endlessly different… he understands that.

“Hold me?” He ventures, pulling back enough to explore Lance’s reaction. He knows what the answer will be by now, Lance is pleasantly predictable when it comes to things of this nature. It still unnerves him a little bit though, being so blunt about what he wants from another person, especially when it’s attention. He’s not like Lance, can’t put himself out there for better or for worse.

Lance’s eyes widen slightly at the request and for a terrifying fraction of a second, Keith genuinely believes he’s about to be rejected. Then a smile follows, rolling out across Lance’s lips slow and lazy, radiating warmth and understanding. He even looks the slightest bit _excited_ , like he’d been waiting to be asked.

The flighty feeling that traipses through Keith at that thought is not to be trusted, leaves him curling his toes against the metal flooring beneath in an effort to stay grounded.

“Yeah, of course.” Lance breathes gently, effortlessly sliding an arm around Keith’s weary shoulders. He leads them both into his room, Keith tucked securely against his side. Lance heads straight to the bed and Keith stumbles over his feet in his effort to keep up, eyes flickering around and taking in his surroundings despite being here a few nights in the past. Usually they just stand just inside the doorway though, he’s never been so quickly invited into Lance’s private space before.

It’s a mess, really. He shouldn’t be as awed by the opportunity as he feels in that moment, it looks the same as you’d expect any teenage boy’s bedroom to. There are dirty clothes scattered across the floor surrounding the hamper, books piled haphazardly on his desk, a pile of food wrappers on his bedside table threatening to spill over the edge. It’s nothing special, really. But Keith’s heart races all the same, a blush darkening his cheeks as Lance sits down on the edge of the bed.

Lance pats the mattress beside himself, looking curiously up at Keith. The reality of why this feels so off suddenly hits Keith like an oncoming train, his jaw unhinging slightly. Their dynamic has been different recently, shifting steadily into something unrecognizable from the not-rivalry they’d once shared. You could ask any one of their teammates and they’d all agree; things were changing between Keith and Lance.

Change isn’t something that Keith’s unfamiliar with really, but it still frightens him. He’s not an idiot, he hears the jokes his friends have been making, sees the way Lance rushes to shut them up before they make Keith uncomfortable with it. He knows… they’re not really _just_ friends anymore. They didn’t label it, Lance never implied he wanted to, Keith certainly doesn’t know enough about it to volunteer any input. So they’re stuck in a limbo between what they always were and what they’re becoming.

Lance gestures him closer and he listens, stepping forward to stand between Lance’s knees, hands shaking slightly. Lance reaches up and holds them between his own, stroking his thumb over the Keith’s tense knuckles. He watches quietly as Lance glances up at him, curious and judgment-free, earnest in the way he wants to know what Keith’s going through and wants to _help_ him with it.

Shamefully, that’s really all it takes to shatter the remainder of his hesitation away. He clambers into Lance’s lap without a second thought, wraps his legs around the boy’s torso and loops his arms around his neck. He melts into Lance, nuzzling into his neck and sighing contently.

They stay just like that for a long while. Keith is fine with it at first, but then the contact starts to be overwhelmed by the sound of his own thoughts again. His hands clutch at Lance’s shirt tighter, gathering bunches of it into his fists. And, wordlessly, Lance starts humming then. It’s not even really a song, the melody is off-putting and clumsy, but it’s something new to focus on. Keith’s grip goes slack again, shoulders slumping, and then his eyes fall closed. He breathes deeply, wishing it were possible for him to fall asleep just like this.

Lance ducks his head and though Keith can’t be sure, he has a feeling there’s been a kiss placed atop the tangled mess of his bedhead hair. He whines softly, shoving Lance away only to pull him back twice as fast, grumbling as he buries his face back into the curve of Lance’s neck. A snicker sounds above him, and then there are long fingers carding through his hair just like in his dream, working the knots out of it with a touch so gentle it’s barely there. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

“I hate feeling like this.” Keith manages weakly, words muffled by Lance’s skin. He doesn’t really think anything of it until Lance gingerly leans away and places a hand on Keith’s forehead to keep him from following after him, chuckling nervously under his breath. Keith’s eyes widen, glued to the spot on Lance’s neck his lips had just been moving over. _Interesting_.

“Like what?” Lance pries, not-so-smoothly playing off his reaction as nothing at all. Keith decides to play along, rolling off of Lance and onto the mattress in a heap. He tunnels his way under the covers, until just his face is left showing and he doesn’t feel quite so exposed. It’s a coping method more than anything else, a desire to feel small when his problems are so very big, but even knowing that Lance still smiles down at him fondly.

Once before, early on in their space adventures Lance had walked into Keith’s room to find him swaddled up like this… and he’d called him an ‘emo burrito’. Keith didn’t talk to him for a week after that.

“Like a burden.” Keith answers bluntly, nails digging into the mattress. He stares down at it, unable to look at Lance as he explains himself further. He knows what he’ll see, knows Lance’s smile will crumple and give way to a deep frown. He feels Keith’s hurt as rawly as his own. “It’s all I’ve ever been. I cost my mother her life, I ruined my father’s, I wasted the time and resources of every orphanage or foster family that ever took a chance on me, I spat in the face of all the Garrison leaders who saw potential in me, I let Shiro down. I’m going to disappoint the entire fucking universe now. And... I-I’m draining you.”

“What?” Lance asks gently, disbelief evident in his voice even as he tries his best to listen to Keith without bias. Keith glares at him now, eyes dark with anger. Why doesn’t Lance realize it?! He’d be so much better off if he’d just realize it now and push Keith away before he gets hurt. Keith doesn’t want to hurt him.

“I’m using you!” He growls, eyes boldly staring into Lance’s now. He doesn’t look affronted or angered, by the confession. If anything the look in his eyes is pity. “I’m using you to make myself feel better. I’m unloading my problems onto your back and you can’t possibly hold them up. I’m going to lean on you until you fall and then I’m going to move on because I won’t know how to help you back up. I can’t… help myself. How am I meant to help anyone else?”

“Keith.” Lance sighs, bringing his feet up onto the edge of the bed so he can lean his forehead against his knees. He shakes his head, a monotone humorless laugh huffing past his lips. He lifts his head again a few seconds later, looking considerably more determined than defeated. He scoots closer to the mound of blankets Keith has burrowed into, lies down next to it and curls around Keith’s outline. “You’re not a burden. You’re not forcing me to be here. I’m here because I _want_ to be. That’s what friends do, they both lean on each other to stay upright.”

Keith scowls deeply, hand sliding across the sheets to grab a pillow and pull it into his blanket cave. He shoves his face into it, uncertain whether he’s closer to yelling or crying. Either way, he doesn’t want Lance to witness it directly.

He knows that Lance means what he says, that he would never lie to him to make him feel better. He honestly believes that he’s here solely because he wants to be rather than out of obligation, thinks that they’re both getting the same from this relationship. He’s naive. It’s obvious that Keith is the heavier weight here, that his emotions are going to be too much for Lance to hold up sooner or later. He’s imposing on Lance, there’s no way the other would want to be here if he knew the full extent of what Keith’s knows about himself.

“People keep praising me for the hard-hitting decisions I make as a leader, for the results that come from them. I throw myself into everything without thinking it through, sometimes it’s bound to pay off for the better.” Keith rambles on angrily, voice cracking weakly every few words he speaks. “That’s not why I do it, though. I do it to _feel_ something. It needs to be big and bold to warrant a reaction. It’s either utterly devastating or a miracle, the success or the failure is so strong that I’m _allowed_ to react. That it’s _normal_ for me to react.”

He relaxes slightly after he gets all the words out, already feeling the weight lifting from his chest slightly, only because he’s placing it onto Lance’s shoulders instead. He waits patiently for Lance to react, to be as outraged with him as he is with himself. He’s expecting to be kicked out and yelled at, so it catches him off-guard entirely when a weight settles on his back so heavy that he has to groan and buck it off. He realizes too late, after he’s shoved Lance into the wall, that it’d been a hug-attack of sorts. That or Lance was attempting to kill him by smothering him, but… the more likely of the two was the former.

He sits up worriedly, staring to where Lance had ended up squished in the crack between the bed and the wall. He reaches out cautiously, only to squeal in shock when a hand darts up to catch his own, slamming him back down into the mattress. He doesn’t get the chance to right himself before Lance is rolling on top of him, legs splayed on either side of the blankets he’s encased himself in.

Lance looks absolutely ridiculous on top of him. His glasses are sat askew on his nose, hair sticking up in tufts all over his head, a toothy grin stretched across his face. He’s clearly way too proud of himself for winning their impromptu wrestling match, Keith knows for a fact that he could easily buck him off and switch their positions if his limbs weren’t caught up in… an emo burrito. He sighs, head falling back against the pillows.

His eyes flutter back open as hands settle on either side of his face, cupping his cheeks. He hadn’t even realized he’d started crying again at some point, but apparently Lance had. The pads of his fingers smoothed across Keith’s face, gathering the tears there. Keith watches dismally as it happens, wondering if Lance plans on ignoring what he’d said entirely.

Suddenly, their foreheads are pressed together and Keith is left reeling to catch up with how quickly Lance moved at such a late hour. Blue eyes bore down into his, a fierceness radiating behind them that tells Keith rather clearly that he’d better pay attention to whatever Lance had planned next.

“You can react to anything you feel the need to, you hear me?” Lance deadpans, leaving little to no room for argument. Keith is great at finding room to argue, he might even call it one of his strong suits, but this time he stays obediently quiet. Lance is fixated at him even with their close proximity, apparently not finding it nearly as jittery and nerve-wracking as Keith is in that moment. “You’re _not_ a robot, you can’t turn your feelings off when they’re inconvenient.”

That hits a little bit too close to home. Keith isn’t sure how to tell him, but he’s pretty sure feelings are permanently inconvenient, it’s not a temporary thing. He’s spent his entire life trying to ignore them, to act logically rather than emotionally. Emotions only ever got in the way, only ever inhibited him from acting the way he normally would. He doesn’t want to be the type of person that gets lost in something so fleeting, something that could change from one mood to the next. It was a weak, unreliable way to live your life.

Vivid memories came rushing back to him, thoughts of all the times he’d broken down as a child, whiny and snot-nosed. He’d driven his father off that way, could vaguely remember all the times he’d been bluntly told as much by the man, that he was too much to handle. As he grew, he refused to allow himself to cry in an effort to keep from scaring anyone else off. Instead his bottled up emotions started to manifest in the form of anger, in kicking and screaming, in bitterness toward every person he saw who allowed themselves to indulge in how they felt. Even seeing someone smile started to feel like a taunt in his direction when he was prohibited from expressing himself whatsoever.

Keith lets out a choked painful noise, trying in vain to forcefully turn his head away from Lance. Lance’s grip is gentle, but determined. It doesn’t let up, leaving Keith to sit there pitifully as tears built up in his eyelashes. He sniffles brokenly, guilt creeping through him as he feels Lance’s eyes on his face like a physical weight.

“I d-don’t deserve it.” Keith gasps, breaths coming in short ragged gusts. His eyes squeeze shut, refusing to look at Lance and the quiet hurt he’s displaying. The hands on his face linger even still, stroking along his cheekbones and his jawline, followed by the gentle press of lips to the same places. Keith’s eyes fly open at that, pulse racing in his chest.

Lance pulls back to stare down at him, eyes heavily lidded and a gentle lopsided smile on his face.

“What do you mean? Don’t deserve what?” He presses, coaxing Keith out of his shell ever so slowly.

“To _feel_.” Keith clarifies finally, swallowing harshly as he realizes what he’s said. He almost wishes he could swallow the words back down, pretend it’d never happened. It’s clear from the look on Lance’s face that that won’t be possible though, an epiphany of sorts playing out in those pretty blue irises. He’d said too much, that much is clear. Yet it felt so good, so freeing, he finds more words are tumbling past his lips of their own accord. “There’s so much at stake. There’s so much more to worry about. I’m meant to lead right now, I have an obligation, I have responsibilities, I… I owe it to the others to be strong.”

Lance’s eyes shift into a squint then, staring so critically at Keith that he almost feels like prey. He shifts nervously, bracing for the worst. It doesn’t even occur to him that maybe Lance is starting to realize that this way of thinking came from other people in his life, that Lance is angry with who made him think like this rather than Keith himself.

Lance’s weight rolls off of him and Keith watches as the other boy sits up, raking his hands through his hair. He turns to stare down at Keith, dropping a hand to his forehead as well and smoothing the hair back out of his eyes. He tucks a stray strand behind Keith’s ear, exhaling lowly.

“Keith? Listen to me.” Keith nods slowly, wanting nothing more than to make Lance happy again. He doesn’t like seeing him wear such a forlorn look. “You don’t owe _anyone_ jackshit, nadda, not a fuckin’ thing, my dude. The sooner you realize that, the sooner you’ll feel better.”

Maybe it’s the bluntness of it all, or the fact that Keith is certain he’s heard Lance say this a million times before with far more etiquette and insightfulness, but suddenly laughter is filling the room in place of the quiet sniffles and sobs. Keith giggles even as he cries, swiping clumsily at his own face and shaking his head at the ludicrousness that had just left Lance’s mouth.

And against all odds, Lance looks happier too. He lights up just seeing Keith happy, riding the tumultuous waves of Keith’s emotions right along with him, even with a storm brewing overhead and the threat of drowning imminent. He doesn’t get it really, how Lance throws himself into feeling so freely and willingly, as if asking to get hurt.

“Aren’t you _tired_?” Keith asks after the laughter finally dies out, reaching over to place a hand on Lance’s inner thigh and squeeze. Tan fingers slot between his own, curling around his hand securely.

“Is that a trick question? It’s like 4am, of course I am.”

“No, I mean, aren’t you tired _of this_?” Keith tries instead, propping himself up and using his free hand to gesture vaguely at his overall self. His hair falls in his eyes and he ignores it, eyes falling shut. “You say the same thing every time I come here. I never listen. Nothing ever changes. I don’t know if it ever will. Don’t you get tired of trying?”

“Yes.” He’s not sure what he expected really. He knows that he’s a lot to handle, that everyone gets tired of him sooner or later, that it must get repetitive early on. He should have been expecting a yes, it was the answer that made the most sense. Lance just had such a track record of proving him wrong, of being everything Keith had come to believe people couldn’t be to him. At the very least, he’d expected Lance to gloss over his answer, to be discreet about it. Not so… blunt.

He starts to sit up further, already debating the best excuse he can come up with to get himself out of there and back to his room as quickly as possible. He nearly forgets that there’s a hand wrapped around his, realizes as he starts to shift forward and it tethers him to the spot.

Keith freezes, eyes flying open as he whips his head around to stare at Lance. He looks contemplative, his eyes glued to their intertwined fingers. “Of course I’m tired. It’s _exhausting_ to watch, the way you tear yourself apart and try to throw away the undesirable pieces. You sweep them under the rug, you throw them in the fire, you chew them up until they’re unrecognizable and then you swallow them down… and then you wonder why you don’t feel whole anymore. I don’t understand it. I can’t understand it.”

“I’m sorry.” Keith blurts, the tremor in his voice giving his stance away. Lance’s gaze flickers up, looking Keith over.

“I’m going to keep trying, though.” Lance states decisively, not a single shred of doubt showing through his features. He lifts Keith’s hand, holding their eye contact even as he brushes his lips over Keith’s knuckles. “As long as you’re willing to let me, I’ll be here to pick up the pieces and hand them back to you. I don’t care if I have to do the same thing a thousand times over or try something new every night, it’ll be worth it on the off-chance it helps. I’d rather be the idiot that’s out here running on the brink of exhaustion, red-eyed and sluggish, than be the one that turns his back on you again. You’ve had a lot of those, haven’t you? People that have left, told you that you’re too much to deal with.”

“I am.” Keith insists stubbornly, finding himself leaning closer almost subconsciously. Next thing he knows their noses are practically touching, the only space between their lips obscured by their locked hands.

“No, you’re not.” Lance insists, shaking his head. “People have their own struggles, their own demons to ward away. Not everyone can afford to drop everything to help someone else, that’s not… that doesn’t make them evil. Not always. It does hurt though, being told you’re not worth the effort time and time again. Different people have different priorities, different things they’re willing to dedicate themselves to. I can’t speak for anyone else, but you’re not a burden to me. You’re worth every bit of effort I can afford.”

Keith sighs long and heavy, wrenching his hand free of Lance’s only to grab the boy’s arm and yank his entire body down on top of himself. Lance’s landing lacks any grace whatsoever, just a pile of lanky limbs as he collapses across Keith’s chest with a quiet ‘oof’. He makes no move to sit up though, instead just shifts so he can fall between Keith’s legs and hitch one of his own around his hip.

“Do you think the rest of the team sees me as a burden?” Keith asks once Lance is comfortable, wrapped around him much like a baby koala of sorts. Lance snorts, almost as if amused by the question. He doesn’t even have to think before he answers.

“No.” He states bluntly, cuddling up against Keith’s bare chest. “They see you as something inspiring, they look at you in awe of how much you do and how much you’re capable of handling. They’re really impressed by it, but they don’t see how thin you have to stretch yourself to accommodate for it, how bruised you are beneath your armor. I didn’t either, not at first, not until recently. I’m kicking myself for it now.”

“Why? There’s no way you could have known.”

“I may not have known you, but I know your insecurities. I understand them better than anyone else could because they’re mine, too.” Lance explains, sounding faraway from the moment. Keith bites his own lip, worrying it between his teeth. He’s always known Lance has insecurities of his own, he’s talked about it before to some extent. He seems to think that being open about your problems is healthier than hiding them, but he’s never gone into much detail beyond the fact he doesn’t think he’s good enough to be a part of the team, to be a part of anything really.

Lance trails his fingers over Keith’s chest, smirking to himself before grazing his pointer finger over one of Keith’s nipples. This earns him an elbow to the side. “You think you’re too much? Well, I don’t think I’m enough. I never have, I’ve always had to overcompensate and fight tooth and nail for attention. I had so many siblings growing up, I was never anything more than average, I was never the person people went out of their way to be around. I was just there… background noise. Not worth the effort.”

“I don’t see you like that.” Keith voices quietly, shifting up onto his elbows so he can stare down at the other boy. Lance had made himself quite comfortable, tucked between Keith’s thighs with one long leg wrapped around the swell of Keith’s hip, their fronts plastered together so closely it’s difficult to tell where one starts and the other ends in the dark.

“I know, no one ever does. Except me. I think it’s actually more likely that they see me as too much, too loud, but I can’t stop. I need them to look at me, to verify that I’m worth looking at.” Lance explains quietly, looking uncharacteristically somber. “It’s the same way no one sees you the same way you see yourself. Our perspectives are biased.”

“Wrong.” Keith realizes even as he starts to speak that he’s probably making a mistake, that there will be countless times after this that he regrets ever opening his big dumb mouth. It’s the closest he’s ever been to talking about it though, the most he’s ever wanted to. Even with all the counselors he’d had growing up specifically to cover this topic, he’d never uttered a word to them. For a long time, he told himself that it didn’t even bother him. That he’d be weak if it did. A small, stubborn part of himself still insists that even now. Who does he think he is? Being so upset over this? Sure, his father left, but it’s his own fault for being so unbearable that he had no choice but to leave. Right?

Keith wraps himself around Lance more securely, needing to eliminate any space between them as he sheepishly continues. Lance had gone completely silent, always an avid listener. “My father… he hated me. I tried so hard to please him, to be enough for him, to make myself worth the effort. A-And he just left, he left without saying goodbye or anything. I waited around for him all day, I cleaned the whole house, I made him supper. I waited up all night, I called his cell phone until the answering machine beeps were ingrained into my mind, I fell asleep in his bed! He just… never came back. I wasn’t worth coming back for. I wasn’t even worth a goodbye.”

“Keith.” Lance’s voice is soft, like he’s afraid to be too loud right now, that he might scare the moment away and Keith with it. Keith doesn’t even register how tightly he’s gripping Lance’s shirt until he hears the tell-tale sound of fabric ripping. He pulls his hands away instantly, holding them above Lance’s head and staring up at them in horror. He underestimates his own strength a lot lately. Sometimes he looks in the mirror and expects to see a monster staring back at him. He feels like one often enough.

“I couldn’t make him stay.” Keith intends to sound angry, to show just how lowly he thinks of the man who failed to raise him. It doesn’t come out like that though, instead his voice is pained and filled with hurt, he sounds no different than the whiny snot-nosed kid he’d been the day the man left him. You would think he’d have grown by now, moved on already, but the scars still feel fresh, wounds ready to re-open with the slightest pressure. “I was too much to deal with. I was more than he could handle. I hurt him. I took so much away from him. I ruined his _life_.”

“So?! Did he not ruin your life right back?!” Lance is shouting now, unexpectedly. Keith’s eyes widen as Lance hoists himself up, leaning over Keith with the strength of his upper arms. There’s anger burning through his eyes, frustration plain to see, and for once Keith doesn’t default to thinking that it’s his own fault. Lance is angry on his behalf, angry for him. “Look at yourself, look at what he’s done to your self worth. He hurt you more than you ever could have hurt him.”

“But-”

“You’re allowed to feel, Keith!” Lance continues, rolling out of bed in one swift movement and shoving the shirt from his shoulders. He throws it onto the floor, pacing back and forth in front of the bed, hands scrubbing over his face. Keith shifts slowly and tentatively, feet swinging over the edge of the bed. He stays especially quiet, but Lance turns back just in time to catch him standing all the same.

Keith holds his breath, hesitating before reaching a hand out to Lance. It’s a wordless gesture, he’s not sure that his tongue could curve to form a single syllable right now even if he tried. Lance’s anger deflates the second he sees the apprehension on Keith’s face, shifting into something much calmer as he stumbles closer.

He takes Keith’s hand in his own before using the grip to tug him forward, enveloping him in a hug so tight Keith struggles to breath even more around it. It’s not the bad kind of breathless though, the kind where his lungs feel heavy and strained in his chest. It’s warmth, intoxicating in the way he’d almost give up breathing as a whole just to live in the feeling. He leaned into the embrace, squeezing Lance to his body with just as much force. When they finally pulled back, it was only mere inches, so they could look each other in the eyes. “I don’t care what he told you or what you feel like you owe the world, you have to allow yourself that. Bottling it up like this, it’ll kill you. You need to forgive yourself even when he couldn’t. You were just a _kid_ , he was the adult. He was supposed to support you, not expect you to support him.”

Keith nods slowly, processing the words. He backs away from Lance entirely then, only to place his hands on the other boy’s chest and shove him back onto the bed. He falls onto the mattress, but not before grabbing Keith’s hips and pulling him down as well, on top of him. They end up in a tangled mess of limbs, giggling as they attempt to roll into a more comfortable position.

They end up lying side by side, heads resting on the same pillow and gazes sleepy. Keith reaches out and settles a hand lightly on Lance’s cheek, usually never one to initiate physical contact. It’s hardly even a touch, nothing compared to the touchy-feely way Lance coddles him and clings to him, but it’s the start of something Keith’s never allowed himself to have before. He refuses to allow himself to feel guilty about indulging in it.

“I don’t know how anyone could ever look you over without a second glance, you’re the most… the most everything I’ve ever met.” Keith breathes, running his cold feet along the back of Lance’s calves. The face of shock he pulls is comical, as is the way Lance brings his hands down to attempt to tickle Keith, only to remember he isn’t ticklish too late. Needless to say, Lance is the one that ends up getting tickled until he’s just short of breathless.

Keith collapses back against the mattress next to him, hand dropping to rest on the stretch of mattress between them. He’s unsurprised when it’s encased by Lance’s own seconds later. “I know you’re right about all of this, it’s just hard to unlearn things.”

“I know.” Lance assures him, squeezing his hand. “Thank-you for trying.”

“Thank-you for giving me a reason to.” Keith doesn’t really mean to say it out loud, it just sort-of happens before he can help it. There’s a bit of snark to the words, but the more he thinks about it in retrospect the more he realizes just how real they are. Before Shiro had gone missing, he’d never really considered changing his ways. He’d never seen a need to. Lance had changed a lot of things for him these past few months, his perspective had shifted on everything from love to himself.

Lance is gaping at him now, like he’d just admitted to bloody murder rather than the fact that Lance had changed his life for the better. He can’t help it, it’s impossible to stifle the laughter that bubbles up in his throat. He shakes his head fondly, hand slipping from Lance’s cheek to his jaw, and gripping.

He doesn’t really think about it much, only sees the way Lance’s eyes trace his face from his eyes down to his lips, and then back up again. The moment the thought strikes him he’s engulfed by it, as if a flame was lit on his skin. He burns with it, with the sudden need to see it through.

They meet somewhere in the middle of the pillow they’re sharing, a clumsy press of lips to lips that’s anything but thought-out. They kiss like they’ve been dying for it, like that broken man clawing his way aboard the lifeboat to escape the crashing waves. It’s all hands spanning hurriedly across skin, touching as much of each other as they possibly can. It’s teeth and tongue, murmurs of encouragement, sated longing so strong it’s staggering. Keith didn’t even realize how long he’s been poised on the precipice of this thing between them, his legs weary from balancing, until now that he’s allowed himself to fall over the edge.

“You mean so much to me.” Lance gasps the moment they pull apart, pressing his lips to the corner of Keith’s mouth again, then slowly regressing into a flurry of butterfly pecks all over Keith’s face. At first Keith attempts to swat at him and shove him away, but as the seconds pass his will to fight depletes. It’s not like he actually has a problem with it anyway.

“Yeah?” He replies finally, hand drifting from Lance’s hair to rest on the nape of his neck. He pulls Lance closer the moment he actually attempts to back away, pressing their foreheads together and closing his eyes to saturate in the closeness. He could have stayed like that forever, utterly blissed out by the warmth of the moment and how cozy he felt, but Lance just had to speak up and ruin it.

“I love you.” He says it so simply, so earnest and open, as if the words come as naturally to him as his own name. He doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t stutter, doesn’t even stop to mull over what he’s just admitted to. He just says it, then kisses Keith without missing a beat, content to brush over it like it was nothing worth dwelling on. Like Keith wasn’t going to spend the rest of his life repeating the words in his mind and over-analyzing them until his brain hurt.

Keith doesn’t even gather his wits about himself quick enough to kiss Lance back and reciprocate, simply lays there dumbly until Lance backs off with his eyebrows furrowed together. Keith is staring, his outright gaping, wide-eyed and flushed beyond belief, lips slick with saliva and hair-mussed from Lance’s hand, and… and he’s grinning like an idiot, uncaring about the amount of emotion displayed wantonly and messily across his features.

“I-” He starts, then promptly stops himself so he can dissolve into a fit of giggles. He shoves Lance away across the mattress, only to immediately scramble closer again. He rolls on top of Lance, staring down at him and shaking his head in disbelief. This is his life. This beautiful boy beneath him loves him. He said it and he means it, and Keith couldn’t be happier about it. “I love you too. I love you so much. Holy shit. I am so in love with you, I-”

Lance is blushing beneath him now, looking as startled as Keith had moments before. He stops Keith before he can embarrass the both of them any further by rambling on in shock, brings a hand up and clasps it over the entire bottom half of Keith’s face. He looks a little starstruck, eyes sparkling in the dim-lighting of the room.

“Stay here tonight.” He whispers, propping himself up and nosing along the underside of Keith’s jaw, placing little kisses along the way. “We can be two broken halves of a whole person, together.”

“I’m scared.” Keith admits quietly, though he makes no move to leave. In fact, he finds himself relaxing against Lance, tilting his head further away so those skilled lips can continue to work over his neck. He hopes they leave marks, ones he can look at and feel even when he and Lance are apart.

“You think I’m not?” Lance scoffs. “I still feel like you’re going to get bored of me. That no matter how special I am to you now or how loud my impact is on your life, it’ll always end up fizzling away to nothing. There’s always someone more important, prettier, funnier. I’m just… good enough. Not bad, but never great, never. I’m the mistake you make on your way to finding the right one. I’m temporary.”

“You don’t feel temporary.”

“Ha.” Lance doesn’t seem to find that funny at all, despite the sound. If anything, he seems a little bit surprised by the words, like even after all they’d been through and done for each other, he’d secretly figured he was only a temporary solution to Keith. Even if Shiro were to traipse through the door right now, Keith knows he wouldn’t feel so inclined to leave this bed. Lance… is everything he never knew he needed and more. Even the idea of giving that up now pains him. “Well, if you stick around for the long haul, you’re welcome to give me the biggest ‘I told you so’ of a lifetime when you wake up next to my wrinkly old face.”

“That’s if I don’t scare you off first.” Keith reminds him playfully, nudging Lance with a grin.

“You won’t.” Lance replies, surprisingly serious rather than playing into the lighthearted atmosphere like he normally would. He lifts his head from where it’s been buried into Keith’s neck, instead winding his fingers through the wiry black hair at the base of Keith’s neck and pulling the boy closer. Their lips meet again, so fleetingly that Keith finds himself leaning forward and trying to chase after Lance as he pulls away teasingly. “Trust me, you think your angsty ass is enough to scare me away from all the good things about you? No way. I meant what I said, I love you as a whole and all the things that add up to it, even the parts you hate or the ones you feel the need to hide, you wouldn’t _be_ you without them.”

“And you love me, huh? For whatever reason.” Keith scoffs, the concept still sounding bizarre to him, after a lifetime of thinking himself to be unlovable.

“Mhm, I love you for _countless_ reasons.” Lance agrees, not a hint of mockery present in his voice. He’s staring down at Keith with this look, one that’s hard to put into words, but it makes it impossible to doubt the words whatsoever. He seems to radiate warmth, draws Keith in like a moth to a flame, and damn it if he’s never been so thrilled to be burned.

“Then I won’t get bored of you.” Keith assures him in-turn, certain of himself for once in his life. Lance looks at him curiously, like he can’t decide whether to admit the words to heart or not, and Keith doesn’t even hesitate to climb further out on the limb he’s tied himself to. If it snaps now, he’s falling to his doom one way or another, he’d like to get as close to the sky as possible first. “You’re the only person to ever tell me that and look like you mean it. I mean, that’s the least boring thing anyone has ever been able to offer me.”

“Their loss then.” Lance breathes, looking more than overwhelmed. He almost looks like he might cry and Keith would definitely be freaking out over that, if it weren’t for the dimpled grin being bitten back every few seconds whenever it threatened to shine through.

“Your gain.” Keith responds easily, almost hopefully. He doesn’t believe it even as he says it, but he wants to hear Lance agree with him, knows in his heart that he will. He preens under the attention, the sure footing of knowing where he stands with another person so wholly for once in his life.

“That’s right.” Lance quips, though he seems distracted. Keith doubts himself even more for a moment, but upon closer inspection he notices that it doesn’t really look like Lance is paying all that much attention to the moment. He feels oddly hurt for a fraction of a second, then curious as to where his thoughts are, and then blindsided when Lance breaks out into quiet laughter. Keith pauses, staring awestruck at the teary-eyed and blushing face inches from his own. Lance is clutching his chest to keep himself upright, shaking with the force of his laughter.

“What’s so funny?” Keith asks, hands stroking along Lance’s sides. He calms down slightly after that, though mirth still dances through his eyes.

“I think Red’s, uh, extending her congratulations.” Lance explains, relaxing Keith instantly. He knows what Red’s like, how she butts her head into your subconscious whenever she sees fit to give her input, to approve or disapprove of anything she can. He’s not at all surprised that she would distract Lance right now, would need to let everyone know her thoughts on the matter.

Lance catches his curiously raised eyebrow, blushing harder. “Lots of purring.”

“Is that all?” Keith prompts, knowing damn well it isn’t with the way Lance is staring at him. He looks so amused, but not in a condescending way as much as an appreciative way, as if Keith had been the one to tell a joke. Lance breaks the eye contact, staring down at Keith’s chest.

“Um, she seems to be under the impression that you’ve wanted this for a long time.” Lance admits meekly, like he’s uncertain whether it’ll upset Keith being called out like this. Not long ago, it probably would have, Keith wasn’t one to be open with his emotions and for a long time he struggled even with the mental connection he had to Red. He’s still struggling with his connection to Black now. He doesn’t, however, struggle with his connection to Lance. He’s never been so comfortable with anyone before in his life.

So instead of lashing out like he might have before, he simply grins. He throws an arm around Lance’s shoulders and bucks him off so they can both lie on the mattress again, Lance’s back facing him. He cuddles up to the other boy, chest to back, arms wrapped around his waist securely, face buried into Lance’s short hair. He inhales deeply, the calming and familiar scent only reassuring him further.

“She knows too much, I knew it was a bad idea letting you pilot her.” He mutters quietly, not even capable of pretending to sound upset. “Tell her to stop being such a nuisance.”

“Right, because the lions communicate in words.” Lance snarks back, though the excitement in his voice his evident. He sounds flustered, like he hadn’t expected Keith to actually confirm the information Red was relaying to him. It’s not like the lion would have any reason to lie, but maybe it means something else coming from Keith’s lips. “You know it’s not like that, it’s all _feelings_ and _concepts_.”

Keith rolls his eyes at Lance’s rant, despite knowing the other boy can’t see him. As if he doesn’t know all of this already, he knows the lions as well as Lance does by now, despite the frequent insistence that Lance was the first to bond with one.

He almost falls asleep then, almost lets the conversation lull out to nothingness. He’s warm and content, feels better about life and himself than he has in a very long time, but there’s a pang of longing still in his chest that he can’t shake. He isn’t even sure if Lance is still awake, but he knows he has to try.

He hugs Lance closer, voice barely audible as he spoke against the nape of the brown neck in front of himself. “Tell her I miss her, would you?”

The silence that follows is thick, almost a sound in itself it’s so heavy in the air. It definitely echoes in Keith’s ears, taunting him with the knowledge that he’d put himself out there with no guarantee of actually finding anything in the darkness of uncertainty. He isn’t sure why it makes him feel so small, admitting something as obvious as missing the way things used to be, missing the familiarity of an all-around unfamiliar life. He just… feels like he shouldn’t. Like he’s showing a part of himself that he’s meant to be keeping locked away.

He almost does something stupid, like tell the sleeping Lance in front of him that he didn’t actually mean it and it was only meant as a joke, when a hand reaches back to squeeze his thigh. He freezes, eyes flying open.

“She knows, Keith.” Lance replies quietly, voice soft with sleep. “She misses you too.”

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I can say with utter honesty that I don't remember 99% of this fic and I've wrote the entirety of it in the past 24 hours. I don't know... what happened here. *touches ground* something terrible happened here.... it smells like..... angsty keith backstory and insecure lance. 
> 
> ok sorry im too gay to write anything valuable in these notes so here are my social media handles, pls mosey on over and tell me how great i am.
> 
> twitter - https://twitter.com/MelancholyMango  
> this is where i am at my messiest, but basically you can expect to see very serious rants about zootopia and a lot of photos of my pets (wiener dogs, a baby kitten, a HEDGEHOG NAMED SHIRO??? r u in or what)
> 
> tumblr - melancholymango.tumblr.com  
> this is where i reblog ten thousand photos of klance and answer the questions u guys ask me about my writing, also a good place to make requests about things you wanna see from me in the future.
> 
> wattpad - https://www.wattpad.com/user/MelancholyMango  
> this is where i post my real-person fanfiction! i've written troyler way back when, but right now I'm mostly just posting phan. (i may also eventually post original fiction here, but right now my ass belongs to youtubers)


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